The Academic Prodigy’s Unveiling

The traditional art form of liberal arts classes involved a pre-class ritual: students were randomly selected to write out the assigned recitation from the previous lesson, with a few ‘lucky’ individuals called to the blackboard.

Failure to recite perfectly meant public execution, so to speak.

The blackboard stretched across a large section of the wall, with four students spaced out, one on each side.

Xi Yao stood third from the left, flanked by two other girls.

Even those not called to the board weren’t spared; they had to take out their notebooks for a dictation, which would be collected and checked upon completion.

“For the first question,” the politics teacher began slowly, “explain the materiality of the world.”

A profound silence settled over the classroom, broken only by the soft scratching of pens on paper and the rhythmic tapping of chalk against the blackboard from the four ‘lucky’ students.

Xi Yao, perfectly at ease, not only transcribed the answers but also mentally embellished them with her own interpretations.

‘Matter determines consciousness, which effectively means: my large chest makes me the one in charge.’

‘Consciousness is dynamic; for instance, while Sister Xi Ruo’s chest isn’t as ample as mine, her ‘Tuantuan’ (TL Note: A playful, often euphemistic term for breasts) possesses a far more imposing presence than my own.’

‘Everything in the world is in motion and flux. Take Tuantuan, for example; whenever it moves, whether I’m running or participating in a lottery draw, its shape inevitably changes…’

After silently writing down several answers, Xi Yao flowed effortlessly, her fingers never pausing, even her blackboard script appearing delicately charming.

This stood in stark contrast to the three students beside her.

Fortunately, with the new semester just beginning, everyone was still quite motivated and diligent with their memorization, so all of them managed to stumble through their answers.

At this point, the politics teacher abruptly shifted his line of questioning: “What is truth?”

‘…Huh?’

More than half of the ninety students in the class lifted their heads, their gazes blank with confusion, while the rest furrowed their brows in deep thought.

‘Wait, what is this? Have we even studied this?’

Completely oblivious to the commotion behind her, Xi Yao simply lifted her chalk and continued writing.

‘Truth is objective, and truth is Tuantuan.’

‘Truth is conditional; only a large Tuantuan constitutes real truth.’

‘Truth is concrete; a Tuantuan one can see by looking down and touch during a ‘lottery draw’ (TL Note: A euphemism for breast measurement or playful interaction) — that is the true truth.’

The scratching of chalk had vanished, and an eerie silence descended upon the classroom.

On the podium, the three ‘lucky’ students — Li Shanshan and Zhao Chenglu — exchanged bewildered glances, their eyes reflecting mutual confusion and hesitation.

When they turned their heads again, they were startled to see Xi Yao’s chalk flying across the board, writing with unrestrained vigor.

‘No way, she’s actually writing it, sis?’

Indeed, she was writing it for real, her chalk flying without a pause until she finished and declared herself done.

‘Done!’

Xi Yao set down her chalk, and upon turning around, she noticed the entire class staring blankly, brows furrowed, unable to write a single word.

‘Huh, do people not memorize things after class?’

Returning to her seat, she glanced at her deskmate’s notebook.

The handwriting, as serene as the person themselves, displayed all the correct answers with meticulous precision.

“Quite simple, wouldn’t you agree?” Xi Yao remarked casually.

Jiang Li quirked a corner of her mouth, her gaze a touch complex. “Mm.”

‘It was indeed simple for her, but…’

“We haven’t yet covered the knowledge point for the last question,” the politics teacher announced loudly. “However, Student Xi Yao has prepared exceptionally well. All right, please submit your work now.”

‘Well, I’ll be! It really was something we hadn’t been taught!’

The entire class looked at the politics teacher as if he were a sly trickster (TL Note: ‘老六’ (lǎo liù) is a Chinese slang term for someone who is sneaky, cunning, or plays dirty tricks).

Yet, they also breathed a collective sigh of relief, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if they hadn’t answered the last question.

The blackboard clearly displayed the ‘achievements’ of the ‘lucky’ students: Li Shanshan, Zhao Chenglu, and He Qian had barely managed to complete the preceding questions, but Xi Yao had written several more lines than them, not a single character amiss.

“To pull a stunt like this on me, how truly devious,” Xi Yao muttered, crossing her arms. “Good thing I… prepared.”

‘Good thing I’d learned it before.’

Jiang Li tilted her head, clearly puzzled by today’s pre-class routine.

‘This never happened last year. Is this a new tradition for second-year students?’

The politics class slowly concluded, and the ingenious dictation segment didn’t prompt much deeper thought from the students, who simply concluded that Xi Yao had an unconventional study style, managing to prepare for such advanced topics.

‘Also, she’s really pretty, and her chest is so big.’

However, in the subsequent classes, be it English or History, Xi Yao consistently found herself among the ‘lucky’ students chosen for the pre-class dictation.

Fortunately, she completed every single one flawlessly, thereby avoiding each potential ‘public execution.’

In the wake of these events, whispers began to circulate.

“Xi Yao’s a bit unlucky, isn’t she? She gets called up every single class.”

“But she doesn’t care, honestly. Call on her all you want, ask her anything, she’ll know it anyway.”

“True, she can even write out answers for topics we haven’t learned yet. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“No wonder she managed to win over Jiang Li; she really has the talent.”

Among students who weren’t close, no one would specifically investigate her previous grades.

They only knew that Xi Yao hadn’t been among the top performers last semester.

However, judging by her performance today, this girl, Xi Yao, clearly had something going for her.

As for why Xi Yao was suddenly so diligent, students offered a plethora of theories.

“Maybe Xi Yao was always strong, just hiding her true abilities last semester. This semester, she’s stopped pretending and laid her cards on the table.”

“I get it now. Xi Yao and Jiang Li are competing in academics. Whoever gets better grades gets to be on top.”

“Then Jiang Li absolutely can’t lose! An aircraft carrier pressing down on a cruiser – with such a massive flight deck, wouldn’t it just crush the smaller vessel’s deck?”

“Heh, too many otaku (TL Note: ‘二次元’ (èr cì yuán) literally means ‘two-dimensional world,’ referring to anime, manga, and similar subcultures; here it implies someone engrossed in fictional worlds or being unrealistic).”

“You’re thinking too small. Is it possible that last semester, Xi Yao deliberately held back to win Jiang Li’s favor? Now that she’s got her, she doesn’t need to yield anymore; she’s completely at ease.”

In the second-year liberal arts office of the teaching building, the homeroom teacher for Class 2 sat behind her desk, facing the English teacher.

“Her learning progress is excellent. She can skillfully dictate even unfamiliar words and sentence structures. If she were to take the monthly exam now, her scores would likely be quite good.”

The English teacher offered her assessment.

Lao Ban nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

“It’s nothing. I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t mentioned it, that Class 2 had such a hidden academic prodigy.”

The fact that several subject teachers called Xi Yao to the podium simultaneously was, of course, no coincidence; Lao Ban had specifically requested they do so.

Having Xi Yao perform at the front served a dual purpose: it allowed them to assess her academic standing, and it also created an impression among her peers, letting everyone know that this ‘big-chested girl’ possessed genuine ability.

That way, when her scores suddenly soared during the monthly exam, no one would be able to gossip.

Still, the uniformly high praise from the various teachers had somewhat exceeded Lao Ban’s expectations.

‘This big girl, did she want revenge that badly? To work so hard, when she clearly didn’t seem to try much in class, just putting her Tuantuan on the desk and starting to slack off (TL Note: ‘摸鱼’ (mō yú) literally means ‘to touch fish,’ a Chinese slang term for slacking off or procrastinating).’

‘It seems Xi Yao must be burning the midnight oil in her dorm every night after school.’

“Something feels off,”

Xi Yao, overhearing her classmates discussing her, slowly began to piece things together. “The teachers kept calling me to the podium today; it was probably Lao Ban’s doing.”

She recalled that day when Lao Ban had summoned her to the office, inquiring about her interest in running for student council president.

Now, it dawned on her that she had been probing her capabilities.

She wanted to see if Xi Yao truly possessed the competence to participate in the election.

Jiang Li set down her German book, looking perplexed. “Why would Lao Ban do that?”

“To check my grades,” Xi Yao replied, placing her Tuantuan on the desk, instantly feeling a sense of relief. “And also to lay the groundwork for others, to let them know that my academic achievements aren’t without explanation.”

Xi Yao was now undeniably the talk of the class, and the events of today would likely spread rapidly.